


Six Seeds

by blondae_pinkdae



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Byun Baekhyun - Freeform, Do Kyungsoo - Freeform, EXO - Freeform, Genderbending, Gods, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Immortality, Immortals, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Hellenistic Religion & Lore), Kim Jongdae - Freeform, Kim Jongin - Freeform, Kim Junmyeon - Freeform, Lu Han - Freeform, M/M, Park Chanyeol - Freeform, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Smut, Some Fluff, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, Yi Fan, Zi Tao - Freeform, kim minseok - Freeform, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-02-27 01:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18729127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondae_pinkdae/pseuds/blondae_pinkdae
Summary: A thousand years ago, Minseok, the revered God of the Underworld, fell in love with Jongdae, the beloved partner to the God of the Harvest. Over the course of the next one thousand years, Minseok reunites with Jongdae, but every time fate brings them together he's clueless as to who Minseok truly is.





	1. Epigram

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xiuchenlay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiuchenlay/gifts).



_"I wanted pomegranates — I wanted darkness. I wanted_ him _."_


	2. Prologue — 1,000 Years Ago

—  _death is not a lover // oh, yes he is —_

_He was the most beautiful creation that Minseok had ever laid his eyes on._

_Minseok didn’t venture out of his palace often. Unlike most souls who found the palace walls to be suffocating and confining, he found the isolation had calmed the nerves that were never put to rest when he lived with the remainder of his family at Olympus. Even when he did journey outside he almost immediately wished he would have just stayed indoors. The light that descended on Earth was blinding, and was a thousand times harsher in comparison to the light that veiled the dark walls of his home._

_Minseok—humanity disguised his true name as Hades —had learned how to mask himself from the people of Earth, he knew that he was not accepted here. Yet, regardless of the harsh treatment he knew that he could receive, it was a day like today Minseok was certainly thankful that he chose to venture into the Earthen heat. If anything, he was slightly chilled by the air around him, and was surprised to see the handful of mortals that passed him, not even knowing that he was walking amongst them, perspiring at an alarming rate. He had adapted well to the harsh heat that radiates across the vast span of the underworld. Even the five rivers steamed, and sometimes boiled, due to the scorching temperatures. Minseok would have love to see Yifan spend more than thirty seconds in that hell hole. He recalled how at first he could barely last five minutes without tearing all of this clothes off during the peak morning heat. It took years —hundreds of wretched years—to finally get comfortable wearing just undergarments._

_He had a bad habit of comparing his place of exile, which he didn’t mind much anymore, to...well, everywhere else. There were a many drastic differences that separated the underworld from the beauty that was the pristin Mount Olympus, and the middle ground playing field between it and him that was Earth. He could go on and on about them all. After all of these years, he gave up on the hope that once fueled him, filled his veins and gave him life in that near lifeless place, that he would make it home to Olympus. He knew that day would never come. Yifan—the all-mighty Zeus that the Earthlings had come to praise—said that there had to be a balance, one that would keep the humans in line, just enough for them to keep the Earth from being riddled with fire and destruction. He knew all too well that his dear friend, Kyungsoo, god of the harvest—nicknamed Demeter—could make the lives of the humans a living hell, but he had always been firm and steadfast in his nurturing role._

_In all of his years of isolation, Minseok had determined that Kyungsoo, to some extent or another, might have been even more frightening than Yifan. Even though Yifan was the all-god, and reigned with an iron fist—trying to keep not only the human realm under control, but his own family, as well—Minseok understood more than anyone else that no human would receive any form of mercy from Kyungsoo if they had managed to find a way to upset him. He had done all he could to stay in his good graces, even after the several centuries since they last had a civil conversation. Once every several decades they found themselves together on Earth in the same place at the same time, and even then his best friend could not manage to shoulder the cold look that would drape his features whenever his eyes would fall upon him._

_Minseok had come to embrace the fact that his friendship with any of the gods, his former friends, was now void. While Minseok has been in contact with a greater majority of them for business purposes, he knew that they would never accept him in the same way they had hundreds, thousands , of years ago. He had considered all the different routes he could have taken in order to restore all that had gone missing, but the more he stewed on those possibilities, the more flaws he found in each of his plans._

_Minseok walked up to the familiar body of water that he always visited whenever he ascended to Earth, with one of his half dozen black stallions by his side. It sat in the middle of an secluded meadow, one that was so small and tucked away it took normal human beings a several days walk to find, if they even made it that far._

_His nerves rippled when he realized that he wasn’t alone this time. It seemed that a human had actually managed to find his way. He wasn’t even sure he could constitute the man sitting across that seemingly short distance as human. His beauty surpassed even a god’s. He couldn’t help but feel like his stomach caught in his throat when his eyes landed on the gorgeous creature who sat across the pond, heart pounding so hard against his chest that he could feel the ache start to settle against the bones of his ribcage. It was the first thing he had felt in that lifeless chest of his in an eon._

_Minseok couldn’t tear his eyes away from the young man’s blonde hair, which was pushed back by the slight breeze that filled the air around them. He could have sworn that he could smell the faint scent of vanilla on the tail end of the wind that lingered in the space between them. And it was abundantly clear that Minseok wasn’t the only one who thought so, because he wasn’t sure what to do or how to act when the blonde’s head slowly, yet cautiously turned in his direction. When they locked eyes, Minseok felt like a spear had been driven straight through his chest, flashes of his past and future dancing across the open, empty plains of his imagination. Everything that had been weighing in Minseok’s heart and soul suddenly lifted as he saw the visible happiness that would eventually fill each and every one of his days with that mere stranger, who felt nothing like one._

_Minseok stumbled forward a step as the blonde stood from his crouched position, revealing the sight that he had been so intently admiring. A flower, but not just any flower, that cursed flower that sent a cold spell through his bones._

_The Narcissus._

_It’s golden yellow petals, so wickedly beautiful, so rare that it would have caught anybody’s attention. But Minseok knew better, he knew what the flower meant, what it is... who it is. It made Minseok sick to his stomach to see it, and he had to keep from rolling his eyes when he realized that the blonde had found it all on his own. No one should have been able to find this place. It was possible, of course. Minseok had seen his fair share of human beings in this very place, but it was puzzlingly rare. And the fact that this young man could even see him was what unsettled him even more than the Narcissus._

_Minseok shook the realization from his mind, and when he was dragged back into the present reality he noticed that the man was nowhere to be seen._

_“Hades.”_

_The voice that sounded from behind was deep, yet foreign. He hesitated as he slowly turned to meet its owner, and when he beheld the beauty that stood before him, he needed to grip the stallion’s reins to keep his balance._

_“So,” the blonde’s voice sounded accusing, “It is you.”_

_Minseok felt taken aback by the statement as the blonde took several tentative steps closer, and he couldn’t tell if it was himself or the stallion that had gone dangerously still._

_“And who are you? How do you know who I am?” Minseok shot back, allowing the authoritative side of him take over for brief moment._

_“I think the question is how could I not know who you are?”_

_An enormous wave of confusion washed over Minseok, a mere mortal, was not only capable of seeing him, but was able to confidently stand up to him as well. Minseok wasn’t sure if he felt impressed by his level of credence, of if he felt amused by his attempt at flattery. The tone of his voice was nothing short of seductive, lustful, and he was almost intrigued by his suggestive banter._

_“I won’t repeat myself,” Minseok warned, “Who are you?”_

_A smirk grew on the blonde’s face as he went to open his mouth to answer when another voice interrupted them. A familiar one this time._

_"Jongdae .”_

_Minseok felt the blood in his veins freeze over when he turned suddenly to see Kyungsoo. Demeter . His best friend._

_“Kyung—” Minseok caught the name as soon as it hit the edge of his tongue, “Demeter...what are you—”_

_“Get away from my partner before I do something I regret,” Kyungsoo’s voice seemed to echo across the meadow, across the short distance that separated the three of them._

_Minseok’s heart plummeted to his feet._

_Partner._

_He slowly craned his neck back to where the blonde, Jongdae—god, even his name was beautiful—was standing directly in front of him, a teasing smirk plastered on his gorgeous face._

_Jongdae. The lover of a god. Not just any god, but Kyungsoo._

_It had seemed that all of the puzzle pieces were starting to fall together._

_Kyungsoo ripped Jongdae away, practically pushing him into Minseok’s steed, and stood a considerable distance away from him. It was the closest they had been in decades; it was also the most Kyungsoo had said to him in a century._

_“What the hell are you doing here?” Kyungsoo’s demanded._

_Minseok crossed his arms over his chest, “No one ever said I couldn’t come to Earth. If anything, Earth is part of my jurisdiction, just as much as it is yours. You of all people should know that.”_

_“You have no business here, either,” Kyungsoo stated matter of factly, “Your obligation is to oversee those who come to Earth to do your bidding. You of all people should know that...right? Or have you somehow managed to have a change of heart in the last several decades?”_

_It took everything in Minseok not to throw Kyungsoo’s arrogant ass into the pond. They both knew that Kyungsoo could boast and run his mouth all day, as long as he could bring himself to feel openly superior in comparison to others around him, but he was never a man of action. Not in the same way Minseok was._

_“You and I are equal here, Demeter,” Minseok retorted, “You nor I are more powerful than the other. You may be a god, but so am I.”_

_Kyungsoo had nothing more to say other than, “Stay away from him, Hades…I mean it.”_

_Minseok shook his head in complete and utter defeat, “I can’t. Not now.”_

_He watched as Kyungsoo cocked an eyebrow at the statement, “And why can’t you?”_

_Minseok took a deep breath before taking a single step closer to his dearest former friend, “Because...I think I want him.”_


	3. Chapter 1 — Present Day

—  CHAPTER 1  —

 

_ At dusk, death came to me in the form of a man. _

 

Jongdae fumbled with the keys to his suburban home that he shared with a handful of his college roommates, who also acted as his best friends—probably his only friends. Not only did he have to unlock the front door, but the gated door that served as a useless protective barrier in the midst of their overly safe neighborhood. A mild case of annoyance flowed through him, causing the muscles on the side of his neck to twitch. 

He could hear Baekhyun’s intolerable screeching through the too-thin solid wood door as he shoved one of the many keys on his keyring into the lock. Baekhyun was sitting with Sehun and Kyungsoo in the middle of the semi-spacious living room playing some variation of Call of Duty. Baekhyun leapt from his spot on the carpet and proceeded to commence with his ritual victory dance, while Sehun slumped in his spot on the couch, half frowning, half glaring at their energetic friend.

Baekhyun was flailing his arms in the air when he turned to Sehun, “You owe me dinner tonight.”

Sehun rolled his eyes and sighed, plucking his wallet from the couch cushion and pulling out a twenty dollar bill, “Go buy  _ yourself _ dinner.”

“No, no, no,” Baekhyun wagged his finger, “You have to get in the car and accompany me like a sore loser should.”

The elder was practically dragging Sehun from the couch as Jongdae leaned down to kiss Kyungsoo on the cheek.

“Oh, hey!” Kyungsoo beamed, setting his phone down on his thigh, “How was class?”

Jongdae couldn’t help but groan at the mention of class, “Remind me to  _ never  _ take another night class ever again.”

“That bad, huh?” Kyungsoo tilted his head, reaching up to squeeze his hand.

He spent the time until Baekhyun and Sehun returned with several paper bags worth of fast food complaining about the thirty-minute long presentation that they were assigned in his Greek mythology class, which also just so happened to be a group project. The literal bane of his existence.

“This is what you get for becoming a history major,” Baekhyun said in between shoving two soft tacos in his mouth.

Sehun smacked Baekhyun in the arm before turning back to Jongdae, “What presentation is thirty minutes long?! What is the project about?”

Jongdae offered his attempt at a shrug as Kyungsoo played with his hair, “We haven’t been assigned our groups yet, but we were all given a list with the tales of lovers and topics related to the lesser known myths, which are basically the least important kind.”

At the mentioning of lovers, Baekhyun was instantly intrigued for all the wrong reasons, “So you’re basically gonna talk about people fucking each other.”

He was vaguely aware of Kyungsoo crumpling the aluminum foil that his own food had been wrapped it and throwing it straight for Baekhyun’s face, “Dude, come on...Those tales are much more than people just having sex.”

“That’s total bullshit and you know it,” Baekhyun threw the ball of foil back at Kyungsoo, who caught it before it could make contact with his or Jongdae’s face.

Kyungsoo placed the ball on the cushion and returned to playing with his hair, “What story would you want to do?”

Jongdae had spent the remainder of the two and a half hour class pondering and weighing his options. The semester prior he had done his term paper on the story of Apollo and Daphne, considering it was the story that intrigued him the most of all the lovers’ tales, but he knew that re-submitting a paper could get him kicked out of his program. In addition, there was only so much research he could do on their story until he came to a point where he was reading the same information in someone else’s words. His mind wandered to the other probable alternatives: Cupid and Psyche, Endymion and Selene, Orpheus and Eurydice. The moment he eyed the bowl with decorative pomegranates that sat at the center of their rickety dining table adjacent to the couch, a vivid image of a dark crystalline palace adorned with blue flames glistened in his mind.

He shot up and leaned against Kyungsoo’s arm, “Hades and Persephone.”

He could have sworn that Kyungsoo tensed beside him as Baekhyun turned to him, a look of confusion plastered across his face, “Who? The dead guy?”

“He’s not dead, Baek,” Jongdae’s voice tinged with disbelief, “He’s the God of the Underworld, keeper of the dead.”

“That’s basically the same thing.”

For the oldest of their immediate friend group, he surely wasn’t the wisest.

“Why would you want to do a project on them?” Kyungsoo inquired, fiddling with the tips of his fingers, “Their story is the most well-known, I’m sure everyone in your class already knows everything there needs to be said about them.”

Jongdae rested his head against Kyungsoo’s shoulder, “Yeah, but most people only know the basic premise of the story. I think it would be interesting to delve deeper into their story.”

“Well, if it is as Kyungsoo suggested, then it shouldn’t be hard for you to find someone who is equally interested,” Sehun stood to clear the trash that had collected around them. Jongdae rose from the couch to help the younger.

There was a silent gratefulness that lingered in the air that none of them had to do dishes because he knew that he was going to have to be the one to do them all if there had been any. He did, however, have to take the trash out since no one had taken it out in the last several days, which he didn’t mind. He was eager to have some time alone to consider the topics he might want to consider discussing for the presentation. An unusual and rare feeling in light of the heavy course load that he had decided to take on for the semester.

Once he had put the trash in the bins outside, he headed straight for his room to gather whatever dust-collecting textbooks he could find that would offer any insight on the Greeks and their ideologies. There was a short stack of books by the end of his search, but the minute he went to open his laptop—

“Hey! What the hell guys,” Jongdae shouted as he lifted various objects and shuffled through drawers, “Who took my Mac?”

He was greeted with silence that prompted him to return to the living room where Baekhyun was sitting at the dining table, sporting the guiltiest expression as their eyes met.

“Baek.”

Baekhyun slumped in the chair, “I’m sorry, I forgot to put it back.”

“Where is it?”

The elder looked across the room to where Sehun was sitting in the corner of the couch. Anger flared in Jongdae’s chest.

“ _ Where is it.” _

Kyungsoo walked out from his room and wrapped his arms around his waist, “Calm down, Dae.”

“All of my notes are on there.”

Baekhyun slowly stood and rounded the table until he was at the foot of it, plucking the laptop from underneath one of the seat cushions. He was outraged when he saw the computer completely snapped in half, and he suddenly felt too hot to be standing in his boyfriend’s arms.

“We promise to replace it—”

“With  _ what _ money?”

The room fell silent  _ very  _ quickly. Baekhyun was currently working several part-time jobs just to keep himself through school and barely making ends meet. While his counterpart, Sehun, came from a family that was extremely well off, but they only agreed to fund his living situation and pay for the tuition. Any leisurely spending had to come straight from his own wallet, which is why the man practically ate next to nothing.

He wouldn’t even be surprised if there was red-hot steam blowing from his ears. Jongdae stepped out of Kyungsoo’s grasp and turned back to head into his room. The adrenaline flooded from his body as he flopped against the stiff mattress. He contemplated how much longer he would have to be on campus using the computers in the library, and after briefly calculating the math in his head, he knew he’d be spending more time at school than at home.

A soft knock tapped against his door and before he could sit up to answer the door, Kyungsoo was already in the middle of the room.

“Babe,” Kyungsoo sighed, “Are you alright?”

“Well, I’m gonna have to spend more time on campus than I want,” he whined, “Looks like we are going to be skipping a lot of date nights.”

Kyungsoo squeezed his arm in reassurance, “Don’t worry about that. I’m really sorry about your computer. I swear I had nothing to do with it.”

“Even if you did, you would have told me the minute it happened,” Jongdae reasoned.

The younger leaned forward as pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips, and whatever miscellaneous stress that had collated had been absorbed by his addictive kiss.

 

—

 

“Greek mythology is much more than the tragedies that you studied in your secondary school literary arts classes,” the professor described in his class nearly two days after the laptop incident, “and please do not rely on Disney’s rendition of Hercules to provide any form of mythological accuracy.”

This roused a chorus of laughter from the entire class, all ten of them. Ever since he reached his major-centered classes, he noticed that the number of students enrolled in a given class tended to get smaller and smaller as the years passed. By the time history majors successfully passed their general history courses, they could move on to complete their concentration-specific tracts. Jongdae had chosen to nourish his pre-existing knowledge concerning the Greeks, and decided to specialize in ancient Greek history. He was only one of the very few that chose to do so. Most history majors in Korea chose to study their own history, but since Jongdae had chosen to study abroad a year into his program, he quickly learned that American schools could never come to par with what he had already been taught. Thus, catalyzing the last minute decision to change his specialty.

He considered himself lucky to have been able to travel to America with people he was once only familiar with, and now could call them his greatest friends. As well as meeting other foreign students who attended the same international program as him.

“We have spent the first half of our time together talking about the  _ what  _ behind the tales. What happened, who was involved, and deconstructing the actions of these heroes, gods and goddesses, and those alike. However, instead of thinking of Greek mythology as solely Homer’s  _ The Odyssey _ , or for some of you, Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief, we are going to spend the remainder of the semester discussing the  _ why _ behind the myths and legends.

“As previously mentioned last class, in a presentation-style manner, it will be your job to research and discuss the significance behind one of the topics that I provided. You will be working in pairs to complete this project, and I don’t care how introverted you claim to be...we are history majors, we are all timid in our own ways, so no solo projects.”

A collective groan resonated throughout the class.

The professor shrugged in an almost sarcastic fashion, and leaned against the whiteboard, “I gave you all nearly two days to consider the topics. Topics are chosen on a first-come, first-serve basis, so I’ll be taking volunteers first.”

Jongdae wasn’t the only other person to immediately offer his hand. He and another student, who he had never talked to before, were the first to volunteer. He didn’t know the other student personally, but he was incredibly intelligent. He was never quite during open-class discussion, and somehow always had something to contribute, even when no one had done the required reading. Sometimes people whispered about how he should be the real professor, considering that he spoke more often than the professor himself, and the greater majority of the time it was to combat the content that was being taught. Most of the class generally tuned him out whenever he chose to speak out, but Jongdae found his ideas and theories completely fascinating. There was never a dull idea, and he enjoyed seeing the professor get frustrated whenever he was out-cited by his student’s sources.

The professor raised an amused brow to Jongdae, who rarely ever offered his input first, “Jongdae?”

A deep breath travelled through him, his hands fidgeting with the buttons of his denim jacket, “I—I’d like to do my project on the story of Hades and Persephone.”

A series of heads turned in his direction at the declaration, which spurred a handful of other raised hands.

_ Perhaps Kyungsoo was right,  _ he thought.

“Not Daphne and Apollo?” The professor mused.

A small smile pulled at Jongdae’s lips, “Not Daphne and Apollo, not this time around.”

The professor seemed satisfied in his choice, jotting it down for his record before turning to the rest of the class.

“Alright, Sir-Talks-A-Lot,” another round of chuckles, “You were next.”

The black-haired young man looked back to Jongdae with the most exasperated look on his face, as if he wasn’t expecting him to claim the topic for himself, and without breaking eye contact for a single moment, he declared, “I’ll be doing Hades and Persephone, as well.”

Another batch of groans and sighs.

Jongdae tore his eyes away just long enough to see the professors highly absorbed expression, as if he were picturing how a presentation between such a clashing duo of students would come together.

“I don’t think I’d want it any other way,” The professor confessed. “Sorry, everyone, looks like your choice in topic is off the table. I hope you all came with an additional topic.”

His project partner’s stare felt like scalding hot iron against the side of his face, and before he could even revert his eyes to meet his partner’s, he was sitting right beside him. Jongdae couldn’t help but jump in his seat with surprise.

“Sorry,” the young man offered, “So...Kim Jongdae discussing Hades and Persephone. I never took you as a hopeless romantic.”

“I’m not,” Jongdae refuted.

His partner ran a hand through his curly black hair before offering him his phone, “I’m assuming we’ll be needing each other’s phone numbers in order to complete this project, don’t you agree?”

Jongdae nodded almost dumbfounded by his classmate’s forwardness. He pulled his own phone from the breast pocket of his jacket and set it on the desk across from him. When his phone was returned to him, he looked down to discover the name of the young man he had spent admiring all semester.

Kim Minseok. His eyes narrowed slightly as they flickered up to meet Minseok’s stare, “You are from Korea?”

Minseok didn’t look taken aback by the question, but he also seemed surprised to a certain degree, “I am. I assume you are as well, considering your name and accent.”

“I’m studying here because of an international program that was implemented through my home campus,” Jongdae explained, “All of my friends are based in the same program.”

Minseok nodded in acknowledgement, a brilliant gummy smile reaching his eyes, “It’s nice to meet people who are similar to you. Especially in a place that takes significant effort to adapt to.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

It hadn’t taken too much longer for the remainder of the class to solidify their presentation topics, and they managed to successfully leave class early. He had barely made it through the door frame before Jongdae felt someone tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. Jongdae took in the sight of Minseok, who wasn’t lacking in the smiling department, as he fell into step beside him.

“I was just wondering if you had some spare time to discuss our project since we got out of class early,” Minseok suggested, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Jongdae looked down at his watch. It was only six-fifty p.m., and he was tempted by the idea that there was a Starbucks just down the street. So, he returned the pleading smile that made up Minseok’s expression, readjusting the strap of his backpack.

“I hope you like coffee.”


	4. Chapter 2

—  CHAPTER 2  —

_My dear, my dear, it is not so dreadful here._

 It was seven o’clock at night and one of the many local Starbucks locations was packed to the brim with college students studying for midterms, working on group projects, in addition to the random non-college student that was there to play games on their computer.

The pair had managed to find a spot against the wall towards the back of the shop. The wafting aroma of sweet coffee made Jongade feel wired as he patiently waited for his own drink.

The moment the sat in their seats, Minseok had pulled his laptop from his bag, and Jongdae could feel his heart sinking with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” Jongdae pressed his palm to his forehead in shame, “When I suggested that we come here, I momentarily forgot that I am completely laptop-less.”

Minseok offered him a warm smile across the table, his ears perking up at the sound of Jongdae’s nickname ringing from the baristas lips. Jongdae made a move to get up, but Minseok was already standing, “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

He strolled across the store, dodging pushed out chairs that were inhabited by studious college students, until he reached the counter. He twisted the two cups to ensure that they read _JD_ on the plastic, which was completely camouflaged by the rich dark color of their black iced coffees, before plucking the drinks into his hands. He pulled two green straws from the dispenser and pushed them through the lids. When he turned to make his way back to the table where Jongdae was patiently waiting for him, a man who was slightly taller than him nearly knocked him straight off of his feet.

“ _Hey_ , watch where you’re—” Minseok looked up to meet the face of who he assumed was just another student, and in the thousands of years he had been alive, and of the millions of people he had met, this was a face that was hard to forget. “Cu— _Yixing_.”

The lesser god smirked at him, eyes roaming to assess his physical condition, “It’s been a while, _Minseok_. You look good.”

“What are you—”

“You know better than to ask foolish questions,” Yixing prompted, pulling his own drink into his hands. He craned his neck to where Jongdae was fiddling with his phone, avoiding eye contact with any person until Minseok would return, “I see you’re up to your...usual shenanigans. I hope it’s not distracting you from your work.”

Minseok rolled his eyes, he could practically feel the hellish warmth in his eyes that flared with ice cold flame.

“Stay out of this if you know what’s good for you, otherwise, I can’t promise my hand won’t slip,” his eyes flickered down to the hot drink that Yixing was holding before meeting his stare.

Yixing chuckled in mild amusement before taking a swig of his drink, “We’ll be in touch soon. We’ll _all_ be in touch.”

And then he was gone.

Minseok silently cursed himself as he returned to his seat, placing Jongdae’s drink in front of him, and the younger seemed to beam with happiness at the sight.

“Thank you,” Jongdae offered.

“I think I should be thanking you,” Minseok retorted, “For paying.”

Jongdae waved his hand as he joyfully sipped away at the drink.

“So,” Minseok roused, “Why Hades and Persephone?”

A look of genuine contemplation found its way to Jongdae’s beautiful features, and then he suddenly turned a bright shade of pink, “Would you believe me that the epiphany came to me as I stared at a bowl of fake pomegranates?”

Minseok could feel his muscles stiffen at the words, but he couldn’t hold back the laugh that crept up in his throat, “Can I ask _why_ you were staring at fake pomegranates?”

Jongdae rubbed the side of his arm in embarrassment, a habit he’d never been able to shake, “My roommates and I use them as a centerpiece for our dining table at the house.”

“But...pomegranates?”

He nodded ferverously, “They’re one of my favorite fruits, plus their coloring is nice. One of my roommates says that they’re solely for _aesthetics_.”

“You sure have an interesting taste then,” Minseok comments, “I don’t know many people who can say that their favorite fruit is a pomegranate, and I know _a lot_ of people.”

Jongdae offered a shrug, “I have always been weird like that, I guess.”

Minseok snickered, “Not weird, just...unique.”

“That’s an overly nice person’s way of calling someone weird,” Jongdae countered.

Minseok winked, taking another long sip of his coffee, “Interpret it as you wish.”

They both sat in a brief silence before Jongdae set his half-empty cup back down onto the wooden table, “The person you were talking to at the counter, is he your classmate?”

The question struck him in all the wrong places. Never in a thousand years would he want to be stuck in the same room as Yixing for longer than necessary. He could never recall a single moment where either of them weren’t at each other’s throats, whether it was literally or figuratively. However, there were several instances over the fleeting centuries where lust had been much greater than the hate that flowed in their veins for the other. Shame engulfed him whenever he felt the burning sensation that would be omitted from the scars left from Yixing’s arrows—a sadistic kink of his.

“He’s just an old friend of mine,” Minseok bit down on his straw, “He’s an international student just like us, except he comes from a school in China.”

“I thought he looked familiar,” Jongdae narrowed his eyes at the table, eyeing the stickers on Minseok’s laptop case.

There weren’t many stickers, he had picked random bands and references from some of the most popular American television shows thinking it would make him look more like a college student. According to the many classmates he had over the last several years, owning such a nice computer and being able to decorate it the way you wanted was a sign of luxury amidst the population of students who claimed to be _broke_ —yet, he found that these were generally the same students who owned such nice things. It was a broken cycle of hypocrisies and contradictions.

“You’ve probably never had a class with him,” Minseok placed his cup down onto the table next to Jongdae’s, “He’s a dual major in dance and music.”

Jongdae smirked, “Just because I’ve never had a class with him doesn’t mean that I don’t recognize him. Our campus is significantly smaller than most college campus, especially in comparison to those in Korea.”

“You know…” Minseok contemplated aloud, “You’re better at dodging questions than I am.”

His expression was a mixture of shock and mirth, as if he had been caught in the middle of a salacious act, but he swallowed the laughter that was caught in his throat and leaned forward, his forearms resting on the tabletop, “Persephone wasn’t injudicious. She’s the earlier example of a self-made woman. You think she ate those pomegranate seeds unwillingly? She knew what she would secure if she did.”

Minseok’s heart was pounding at a million miles an hour, “And what makes you so sure?”

“The Hades and Persephone story,” he thought aloud, “is one that I am still familiarizing myself with, but it seems there are many literary markers that indicate that she wasn’t always a captive. He might have taken her, but was it really him who kept her there?”

A wave of astonishment washed over Minseok as questions and thoughts he had been contemplating for the last several thousand years were coming to life through the _only_ person who could possibly hold the answers.

This was going to be an interesting project indeed.

—

Minseok was a mess.

After he and Jongdae had parted ways, he shed his human skin and called upon his chariot. He had an apartment in the city, but it was nothing more than a stand in for the place he called home. It didn’t take long to make the descent into the darkness which he sought comfort in while he patiently waited for his beloved to awaken.

The Midnight Palace had gone through several reconstructive phases over the last several eons. In its current state, the palace sat in the middle of the five rivers that were exclusive to his lands, and was a pillaring magnificent beauty in its own right. The palace had been constructed with some of the finest obsidian-like marble that Minseok had managed to get his hands on. It had taken centuries to collect all of the materials he needed in order to make his dream a reality. No one dared to lay a hand on the palace walls, not that their lives depended on it anyhow.

Minseok strolled along the lengthy hallway that led to his private chambers, soaking in the fresh memory of his time well spent with Jongdae that he replayed over in his mind. Contrary to popular belief, Minseok never required the assistance of others to do things for him. If he was to do a job, he knew better and ought to do it himself, because even though he was tasked with overseeing the dead, he was far from death’s reach. In this mythic universe, trust was overwhelmingly fragile and abstract. He had accepted the truth that his own friends and family had abandoned him, outcasted him for the whole world to see, long ago. On top of all of that, he was cursed to live a lonely immortal life that forced him to outlive the man that he so desperately loved, watched him die over and over while holding him in his arms. Seeing Yixing for the first time in nearly a century was a painful reminder of the cycle of his endless life.

Yixing.

Their story was on a whole new level of complicated and puzzling. Not friends, but not archenemies either. Lovers, but they were equally apathetic towards one another. He wanted to burn all of the memories, rescind all of the lustful stolen touches, whispers of sweet nothings, into nothing but ash. Back before he sat on his own throne, Yixing was a regular fling. Someone who came to him at his beck and call whenever he needed _comforting_. They never asked each other questions, just merely provided the relief they could never admit that they sought through one another. Until he was cast out of Olympus, discarded and stabbed in the back by the very people who were supposed to care about him the most.

“You have the privilege of reigning over your own people,” Yifan had said during their goodbyes, “It’s an honor.”

It hadn’t taken him long to recognize that it was a curse disguised as a blessing, and now he sat on a towering throne with a tilted crown atop his head. Humans _feared_ him, for he was death incarnate in their eyes. Not the keeper of the dead, not Hades, not Minseok, but death. A grim reaper tasked to steal their souls whenever he deemed their time to be up. Every human had an expiry date; not one human could ever escape the fate that a power beyond the gods had crafted for them. Death would come regardless of the infinite factors that made up human life, and it was his job to reap them of their souls once their internal clocks were up. Immortality was never promised for the Earthen people, and it was his job to carry out the deeds that keep them from living out their lives as if they were powerless gods. Leading the millions, _billions_ , of people into the underworld had never been difficult—until Jongdae.

In each of his lives, Minseok considered letting him live, considered letting him walk amongst the underworld as his equal—ruler, lover, husband, _king_. It had always been a pointless conversation. Jongdae never wanted a crown, didn’t want to live for an eternity, regardless of how much they loved one another. He’d have suffered in the underworld. If the gods of Olympus discovered Jongdae’s residency at the Midnight Palace, they’d send him straight to his death right before his very eyes.

The first Taking was the most brutal. His heart nearly cracked in two. The pain was unbearable; shortly after Jongdae sighed his final breath, he barged in and ordered the Sisters to cut his string to put him out of his misery, so that he could find an escape from the turmoil that ravaged his soul.

"You are a _god_ , sire,” they had told him, “Death is beyond your reach. It will never come for you, it can’t.

Even though he was the keeper of the dead, their guide and protector, he never knew how someone was going to die and why. He had never craved for the capability more until Jongdae had died the second time, and then the third, fourth, fifth. And then he noticed a pattern beginning to develop. One that revealed that Jongdae had always been destined to die before he could ever reach his thirtieth name day. His efforts to keep the younger from death’s grasp in the centuries that followed proved that even he, death’s emissary, could not extend his time. Their time _together_ was never enough. They would get anything from six to eight years together at most, which in the eyes of an immortal felt like nothing more than a fleeting moment.  

He would have done anything to exchange his immortality for a mortal life. When the news regarding what he had demanded of the Sisters reached Olympus, it had spread amongst his friends and family like hellfire. It wasn’t too long after that Yixing had been sent to his front door, claiming that he was there on his own terms. He had rolled his eyes at the blatant lie and slammed the door in his face.

He pushed open the solid-black glass doors to his bedroom and faced the windowless walls that had been completely covered by mirrors. He had them installed purely for Jongdae’s sake, who somehow, in each separate life, was reincarnated with the desire to _watch_. Now he couldn’t stand to see himself standing on the other side of that mirror all alone. There were reminders all around the room of the anger he felt whenever Jongdae would pass on and leave him companionless in a loveless world. Spiderweb cracks littered the glass from where his fist bled out and his vision was reduced to nothing from hot tears that were as thick as blood.

His fingers grazed the ruptured glass. It had become so dull that he no longer had to worry about cutting the tips of his fingers open at even the slightest contact. Even if he had, the scars would fade in a matter of seconds. Minseok’s eyes fluttered as he lifted his chin to stare into the mirror, but instead of seeing himself there, he saw Jongdae; his likeness was so vivid and graphic he could have reached out and touched him, but he was met with the smooth solid feeling of the glass under his palm. His arm fell limp; his projection of Jongdae offered him a warm smile before fading into the black.

Minseok turned away from the mirror and sauntered to the nightstand that sat adjacent to his bed. He waved away the enchantment that he would place on the desktop each morning before leaving to attend to his schedule, for the value of the items beyond the spellwork was too high to leave unguarded. After Jongdae’s fourth death, he had managed to _acquire_ an apparatus so powerful and dangerous from the Oracle, Sehun, himself. He might have been the only human alive to be as close to a god as the gods themselves. How the device came into his possession wasn’t important. The crystalline well could reveal _anything_ he dared desire, but at a cost.

“There is always a price for the Truth, my King,” Sehun had advised him upon his foreseen visit to the Midnight Palace shortly after the structure had come into his possession.

A sacrifice. An exchange of one thing for another.

He reached for the dagger that rested against the wood and slashed the surface of his palm until a crimson river flowed from the gash. Minseok rested his hand atop the crystal-clear water until it ran a deep red. When he pulled his hand from the lukewarm liquid, the wound had already closed.

“Show me,” Minseok commanded.

A fog collected and skimmed along the surface of the water, and when the mist thinned, it revealed to him the man whose memories had been supposedly locked away for his own protection. His blood boiled to see him smile naively at the gods who surrounded him, who were right under his nose, in plain sight, surveilling him each and every hour of the day. To add fuel to the blazing fire, the love of his life was head over heels for the god of the harvest.

This is how it had always been from the beginning of their time together. Kyungsoo had always been the obstacle that kept Minseok at bay, involuntarily. With each passing century, another piece of his heart would chip away, would shatter and disappear before his very eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder what would be left of him once the last piece was wrenched from the dark cavern that was his chest. He was already heartless and soulless in the eyes of the human realm, and the friends who had selfishly cast him aside, yet he still managed to find the room in the remainder of his heart, in the depths of his soul, to allow Jongdae in and give him everything.

Because regardless of the obstacles, fate always seemed to disguise itself as consistency. Jongdae would always, and would continue to, come to him willingly. For their love was boundless. Timeless. No force, not even death’s ticking clock, in this universe or the next could triumph over their fate that had been written in the stars.


	5. Chapter 3

— CHAPTER 3 —

_ Even death has a heart. _

Thursday came along and Jongdae was still laptop-less.

The smell of aging books was one of his favorites, even though he could never admit that to his video-game-loving best friends. The aroma wafted through the corridors the university library, being carried by the cool breeze of the air conditioning unit. He was still learning to adjust to the brisk change in weather. Now that fall was in full swing, he was starting to break out his well-worn hoodies and denim jackets, and fall meant  _ jeans _ . He found wearing shorts during the summer uncomfortable, and this summer was no exception. It was one of the hottest summers they had experienced since they came to America, and since he was sensitive to extreme shifts in temperature, he finally conceded to Baekhyun who practically forced him into the knee-length pants after wearing jeans for the first  _ real _ week of summer.

He had barely heard the familiar call of his name through his headphones as he twisted in his chair to see his friend, Chanyeol, walking straight for him, a look of astonishment painted across his face. Chanyeol had been working for the university library for a little over a year now; he was the only person out of their friend group who had been able to procure a job as soon as they arrived. Whether it had been because he was genuinely competent, or if he charmed the middle-aged librarian, Jongdae had never been completely sure.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Chanyeol’s kept his voice low as he leaned against the side of the desk he had been settled at for the last several hours.

Jongdae chuckled, “Well, seeing as I don’t have a working computer at home, I had to find some alternative means of getting my assignments done.”

Chanyeol’s face twisted with confusion, “Last I recall, you have the nicest computer out of our whole friend group.”

“ _ Had _ the nicest computer,” Jongdae emphasized, “Baekhyun and Sehun somehow manage to break it, not that I’m entirely surprised.”

A look of amusement crossed Chanyeol’s face, “Those men leave a trail of wreckage wherever they go. It’s probably why they’re banned from this particular library now.”

Their campus had  _ six _ library buildings, and even though he didn’t find himself in the library often, he found himself partial to this particular one. Perhaps it was because one of his closest friends worked here, or because this is where he and Kyungsoo had been able to progress their relationship, or maybe it was because it was the closest library to the History department. Either way, he was comfortable in knowing that Baekhyun and Sehun wouldn’t be able to harm any other important form of technology he owned while he was on campus.

“I have to get back to work now,” Chanyeol gripped, “It’s Thursday, are we still on for tonight?”

Jongdae nodded, “Of course. Same time as per usual.”

“Awesome!” Chanyeol exclaimed, a bright smile warmed his face as he patted Jongdae on the shoulder, “I’ll see you after I get off of work then.”

—

“ _ God _ ,” Chanyeol moaned as he shoved a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, “Robb Stark really is so fucking gorgeous.”

Thursday nights were their official binge watching nights since neither of them had classes on Friday. Even though Chanyeol had to work the evening shift at the university on Fridays, they would stay up until ungodly hours to watch whatever shows they had either fallen behind on, or in this case, whatever shows they felt like re-watching. With the arrival of the new Game of Thrones season, they felt responsible for knowing  _ everything _ .

The episode had ended and neither of them were prepared for the events of the next episode so they settled for watching documentaries on the History channel instead of having their hearts wrenched from their chests.

Chanyeol wasn’t a history major, but he had always said that if he hadn’t chosen computer science, he would have probably relied on history as his alternative. Sehun always found ways to tease them for watching the assortment of documentaries while munching on a carton of ice cream (they always chose a different flavor each week).

“You guys act like you’re having Bachelorette night, but with documentaries,” Sehun goaded, “Which Spartan warrior is going to get the rose tonight?!”

Jongdae rolled his eyes at the younger, throwing the empty carton straight for his manhood, who flinched by lifting his leg to act as a protective barrier, “Okay, woah. No need to be violent.”

“Tell that to my busted computer,” Jongdae retorted.

“We are going to replace it,” Sehun assured him for the hundredth time, “I’ll even make sure we buy you the upgraded version. How does that sound?”

Jongdae craned his neck to see Sehun taking hesitant steps towards the couch, “It doesn’t have to be, it can be the same model. I just need my computer. I have a ton of projects that need to get done and I can’t keep doing them all at the school.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, considering that we are the ones who broke your computer, but hold out for, like, one more week,” he was practically begging, “I’ll have the money to replace it by then.”

Jongdae relaxed his sardonic features and pulled his overly serious friend down onto the couch, “Don’t stress, Sehun. I was just messing with you…” his voice lightened as he slung his arm around Sehun’s shoulder, “but I do expect you guys to replace it since you  _ did  _ break it.”

Sehun’s head drooped onto Jongdae’s shoulder, something short of a playful sniffle came from his general direction, “Thanks, Dae.”

—

The weekend passed in a blur of long hours at the library and sneaking in Chinese take out with Chanyeol, who spent the weekend enjoying getting paid to do virtually nothing.

“Working the weekends is really a god sent,” Chanyeol had explained during his extensive break, “There’s no one here, so the workload is a lot more lenient. Plus, the head librarians only work during the week, so they aren’t here to breathe down our necks.”

It was the beginning of a new week, which brought them another week closer to exams and presentations. His morning classes, which consistent of modern Chinese history and his writing seminar, dragged. Now he was an hour and a half deep into Greek mythology and he felt like flopping over onto his desk and closing his eyes for half of a second. However, being one out of ten students had its disadvantages. If he had learned anything in the two years that he had been in America, and the four years of attending university, it was that even college students weren’t  _ that  _ mature. He would make an easy target for mindless, social deprecating hazing.

“We spent a lot of time hammering the  _ grand importance  _ of the twelve major gods and goddesses,” their professor recapped, “and while they  _ are  _ important, arguably the lesser gods are just as important to the overall story. Whether a god is lesser or one of the  _ high and mighty _ , they all play a role that keeps the world moving. Nothing more than cogs in a much larger machine. I’m hoping that some of your projects will help to emphasize this point.”

The sound of Minseok’s yawn from his left drew his attention away from the front of the class. Before class started, Minseok informed him that he would be sitting by him for the remainder of the semester, for the sake of their project, since they would get the last hour of each class to do research for and discuss their project topics. Convenient enough for their professor who was clearly ready to let go of the reigns and let the class do the teaching instead.

When the professor released them to find their partner, Minseok pushed his desk right up beside his own, trapping him in on all sides. He chose to ignore the suffocating confinement and reached into his backpack for the notebook that he had been jotting down all of his research in. He placed the notes and the estranged Greek mythology textbook on his desk, and when he looked back up he noticed Minseok had not one, but  _ two _ , laptops on his desk. Jongdae was purely dumbfounded as his body slowly began to catch up to the confusion that ravaged his mind.

“You—I—” Jongdae stuttered, “May I ask why you have  _ two _ computers?”

Minseok couldn’t keep back the laugh that escaped him, passing one of laptops to Jongdae, “I had a spare computer at home that I wasn’t using, consider it a loaner until you get your new one.”

“Minseok…” Jongdae struggled for air, his mind racing, “I can’t.”

“You  _ can _ ,” Minseok insisted, “and you will. Like I said, I wasn’t using it. It’s just sitting at home collecting dust at this point, and I just so happened to know a certain  _ someone _ who was in need of its use.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you have  _ two _ Macbooks,” Jongdae opened the laptop and stared at the laptop in its pristine condition, “ _ and  _ you didn’t mention that your Macbook that is supposedly  _ collecting dust _ is one of the newest models.”

Minseok just gazed back at him in response.

“Are you...is your family, like, stupid rich or something?”

Another melodic laugh filled the space between them, “I live comfortably, just as you do, I would assume.”

Jongdae blinked once, and then twice, opened his mouth to say something and then shut it again, “I have a good radar for these things. I can practically smell the money coming from that Nike sweatshirt.”

“Says the guy who is  _ also _ wearing Nike,” Minseok clarified, glancing down at the solid black Air Max 270’s that Jongdae had on his feet.

“Fair enough,” Jongdae acknowledged, “But, in my defense, it is highly unusual for someone to have  _ two  _ brand new computers. Oh my god, it’s all a trap isn’t it? You have to be some top-secret underground drug lord who is trying to frame me for his crimes, and considering that we are both Korean, I would fit the profile perfectly.”

Minseok’s face twisted with amusement, biting down on his lip to keep from laughing for a third time now, “Cute, but it seems that you’re a little off the mark.”

“Even worse,” Jongdae feigned a gasp, “You’re a pedophile.”

“Gross, no,” Minseok rolled his eyes sardonically, “Just don’t judge my porn stash.”

Jongdae’s face flushed a bright shade of pink as he folded the laptop shut, pushing it away slowly for a dramatic effect. All jokes aside, Jongdae cleared his throat and met Minseok’s eyes, “Thank you, really. I’ll make sure to return it to you in one piece  _ and  _ in working condition.”

“Don’t fret,” Minseok reassured, who still hadn’t opened his own computer, “Now, tell me, did you find anything interesting over the weekend?”

Jongdae hummed a tune of contemplation as he attempted to recall the trivia about Hades and Persephone and their story.

“Not anything interesting, I guess,” Jongdae offered, “Yet, I find it ironic that people write whole academic articles about how Persphone was dragged there against her will.”

“And why is that ironic?”

“ _ Ironic _ in the sense that, sure, she might have been taken against her will, supposedly,” Jongdae folded his hands on the desk, “But, she was never treated like a prisoner, and never acknowledged herself as a prisoner. If anything, she was treated like the queen that she was made to be.”

“But...only with time.”

Jongdae’s curiosity deepened, and Minseok took his mystified expression as a sign to continue, “Persephone was kidnapped in plain sight, right in front of her mother. After Hades decided to make her his wife, a queen no less, she was deeply unhappy with the arrangement. The initial despondency passed and she became...revered. One of a kind, the  _ only _ of her kind. A living soul turned goddess. The goddess of the Underworld.  _ The Dark Queen _ . She had the potential to have more titles than her husband. She was...beautiful, captivating, and despite the hearsay that claimed that she was remorseless and unforgiving, she had the capacity to be compassionate. But most importantly, she was loyal.”

Jongdae was completely captivated by the way Minseok spun the information. It didn’t take much for him to realize that he was a natural born storyteller. Even just the recap of information felt like a tale that was just about to start taking off, a story about the queen of death wearing the skin of a wolf, but underneath the slander and lies was nothing more than an innocent sheep.

“For a moment there, I thought she was a real person,” Jongdae commented, completely taken aback by her semi-vivid description.

Minseok leaned forward on his desk and propped his chin up under the palm of his hand, “To the millions of people who believed in all of those Greek gods and goddesses...she was.”

“You sound like a believer, yourself.”

“Perhaps,” Minseok shrugged his shoulders, “Every person has their own personalized justifications for  _ why _ the world works the way it does. For some people, its science. Others, religion. Philosophy. Logic. If I lived among those ancient people, I think I could understand their reasoning. Long ago, the world was a different place. Complex, but simple. The issues they faced differed greatly from what we deal with today. Their lack of understanding of the world around them—and the rapid development in attempting to understand—is what made them so complex, what made them so creative. That’s what Greek mythology is. It’s merely  _ one _ of many interpretations that help to explain the human world, and why some things are out of their control.”

Not only was he absolutely stunning to look at, he was highly intelligent. Both of which he had already gleaned during the first half of the semester, but the more he listened to Minseok talk in that calm and soothing tone, the more confused he felt about why their other classmates found him annoying. He was probably the only person in the room who actually contributed original thoughts and arguments, while upholding the historical context, to the conversation anyways. He was an open book. Yet, other than Kyungsoo, he was one of the most mysterious people that Jongdae had met thus far.

“And what do you make of her? Persephone.” Minseok inquired.

Jongdae considered all of the things that Minseok had mentioned and allowed his own analysis to form, “I’ve always thought highly of her, but after hearing what you had to say, I’d say that she acts as Hera’s foil. Not only that, but acts as Hades’ equal during a time where women were very much so considered inferior, and lesser than. She was given a considerable amount of power for a woman. Arguably, as a historical figure, her character is meant to be empowering, encouraging, and respectable. It’s an interesting satirical commentary regarding social status, primarily concerning gender, don’t you think?”

Minseok tilted his head in amazement at the younger. The corners of his lips twitched upward, “I think you should speak up more in class.


End file.
